


peachfuzz

by DittyWitty



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Prank Wars, Safehouses, Yes they fall in love with pranking what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 21:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWitty/pseuds/DittyWitty
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a little shit. That wasn't in the history books.





	peachfuzz

**Author's Note:**

> AHH!! So this is my first sambucky fic i've ever written but damn do I love them. Hope you enjoy! :)

Bucky Barnes is a little shit. That wasn’t in the history books.

The Raft was not kind to Sam. Neither was Afghanistan, but at least in the sandbox, he chose to have his entire being ripped away from him by death and destruction. Also, in Afghanistan, Captain America didn’t rescue him, and he didn’t go there because of said man and his possible gay triads.

At first, Sam had suspected that Steve was in love with Bucky, with the way he sacrificed it all for him.

“So, you and Bucky…?” Sam had asked one late night in a dusty motel, leaving the question unspoken but loud and clear.

“No. We never, it wasn’t like that. Look, Bucky — he’s like the brother I never had. I’m just devoted to him. I always have been.” Steve answered, looking away from Sam like he always does when he dives deeper past comfort.

“Did you ever want to?”

“No, not even a little bit. Bucky and I were a couple of ugly mugs back in the ’30s. And sure, Bucky was the more fortunate between us, but” Steve pauses, wrinkling his nose and making a grunt of disgust. “Having sex with Bucky would be like fucking my brother. It’s just grossing me out right now,” Steve laughs, and Sam’s is a little delayed.

It still finds a way to crawl out of his throat somehow.

-

Here’s the thing: Bucky and Sam aren’t exactly friends, but they aren’t enemies either. Most, if not all, of their interactions, have been banter and pretending that they hate each other. It was something to pass the time.

-

After being on the run with Natasha and Steve for six months, Steve gets a call from T’Challa, who Sam has gained respect for by this point. Bucky is out of cytosis and is ready to be picked up.

“He says he can’t harbor a fugitive any longer, but says he has a safe house in Canada that we can live. I don’t even know how to thank him,” Steve says, blowing out a breath. The stress of waiting for Bucky and being international fugitives has gotten to him. The light squeezed out of his blue eyes, the light disappearing over the months. It’s evident that Steve is holding on by a tiny thread.

“Maybe he’ll take a bottle of wine?” Natasha humors for a second, eyes holding a smile.

“Maybe some cat toys,” Sam jokes. Steve laughs, but it’s filled with nerves. Sam softens, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay. Barnes is coming back. You’ll get your boy back.” Sam drops his hand, and Steve takes a deep breath, nodding.

“Let’s go get him.”

-

The pickup went quick. Steve was practically buzzing waiting impatiently for the quinjet to land in Wakanda. As soon as the door was open, Steve left, leaving Sam and Natasha to remain there.

Twenty minutes later, Steve returned with Bucky by his side, carrying a duffle bag and a box, leaving Bucky empty-handed. Bucky looked clean, his hair washed and beard looking trimmed, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with the sleeve pinned back. Sam has eyes, and they were telling him that Bucky looked handsome. Not that he’d ever admitted that to anyone. Natasha had her arms crossed, looking warily at Bucky, nodding once at him and turning away to the front of the quinjet, closing the door behind them.

“Remember me?” Sam asks as a greeting, a smile on his face.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky says, but he’s smiling. It’s a bit awkward and stilted, but it’s a smile nonetheless. It’s a good look on him.

Sam tries to find a good excuse to get out of this awkward reunion, shuffling on his feet for half a second and staring at his combat boots.

They’re untied.

“I’m gonna go check up on Nat, Y’all catch up,” Sam points with his thumbs over his shoulder, turning around and walking away.

“Subtle, Sam,” He hears Steve say from behind him and flips him off. He hears a choked noise, and then a giggle. Bucky laughed. It’s strangely fitting.

-

Nat is fiddling with the controls in the front, getting ready for take-off. She doesn’t even look at him before saying, “You like him.”

“I don’t even know him,” Sam responds. He’s not lying. In a way, it feels like Sam knows Bucky, but not the one on the quinjet. He knows the Bucky from the pre-war days, from all the stories that Steve would tell in the dusty motel rooms whenever he felt homesick.

Sam knows what she’s getting at. The one thing about Natasha is that she always thinks she’s right and in the know. And she usually is.

“So?” She says with a raise of her eyebrow.

“It’s. He’s nice. Kind of. But, you would know that if you stayed.”

“Eh, I wasn’t interested in making that reunion more awkward than it already is.” Natasha says.

“You know, he giggled. Literal Winter Soldier giggled.” Sam laughs at the thought.

“Well, he’s not the Winter Soldier anymore.” Natasha reminds Sam. Like he doesn’t already know.

The flight went by slowly, after a couple of hours Sam goes over to the deck to see Steve and Bucky talking in hushed whispers, huddled close together every time Sam looks up from his book.

Sam jolts awake when the quinjet lands, looking over to see his book placed neatly next to him. He shoves off the blanket that Steve most likely put on him, and reaches down to finally tie his right shoe. Natasha is waiting by the opening door, her hands on her hips.

“Oh Canada, Oh Canada,” He hears her say sarcastically.

“Hey, it could be worse,” Steve says like he always does when they’re on missions, trying to be the leader. Bucky’s still by his side, silent. Sam reaches underneath the seat to grab his duffle bag, walking past the three.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Sam looks back at the three, watching as they shrug, Steve grabbing both of his and Bucky’s stuff, including the box containing what must be his metal arm, and Natasha walking forward empty-handed.

“Show off,” Sam says under his breath, scoffing and going onward as the straps of his duffle dig into his shoulder.

The Safehouse is a one-story home with white paneling, a black roof and a door to match. Green grass and tall trees surround the home. It’s plain and perfect, for all safe houses go.

Inside is even duller. The living room is small but comforting with the kitchen and dining room off the side. The walls are a deep rich navy, and the couch is brown.

Sam wanders to find three furnished bedrooms and two small bathrooms, all stocked up on hygiene. It’s thoughtful and for now: it’s home. He places the bag in a room with yellow walls and a queen bed, it’s a bit under decorated, but Sam doesn’t mind, it gives him more of an opportunity to make it more like home.

Natasha doesn’t have her bags with her, and she’s on the couch with her legs crossed waiting for them. Sam sits down and asks her if she’s staying.

“No, I have other business to attend to. Help you guys get out of this mess,” she says. Sam doesn’t ask where. He knows she won’t answer.

“What, you don’t like maple syrup or something?”

“It’s too sweet,” She looks away, and something tells Sam that they’re not talking about maple syrup.

A couple of days later and they’re all settled. Bucky’s arm is attached, and Sam finds himself staring at the beautiful design more than once. Sam seems to know the house in a certain way by now, how the shower knobs work and how when the other toilet is flushed it makes the water go ice-cold to scorching hot. Steve and Bucky have settled in nicely as well, half the time they’re bickering and joking around like brothers, and the other half they wrestle in the house like teenagers. Luckily there isn’t anything extremely breakable in the house, but Sam yells at them to go outside each time.

Sam wakes up to the smell of bacon and Steve looking at newspapers at the dining table, twiddling a red pen in his fingers, back and forth. He circled something in the press, most likely looking at jobs.

“Job searching?” Sam asks Steve as he sits down at the table, giving a quick nod to Bucky, who’s wearing a striped apron and flipping eggs in the kitchen.

“Well, I’m trying. It seems everything nowadays needs a degree, which I never got.”

“You could always teach art?” Bucky suggests, not looking away from his cooking, sprinkling salt on the eggs that sizzled in the pan.

“Need an art degree for that,” Steve sighed, dropping his head down at the table, Sam pats his shoulder.

“Nice apron,” Sam smirks, teasing Bucky. Bucky smirks back at him, stepping away from the stove slightly and giving a twirl, showing the apron off properly.

“You like it?”

“You betcha,” Sam winks, just for the hell of it, and Bucky stares right back, eye contact unwavering.

“Are you guys gonna _flirt_ or is s _omeone_ going to help  _me_  who is _clearly_ in _crisis!_ ” Steve says, his voice became louder and more shrill with each word. Sam snaps over to Steve, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky blush. Huh. Good to know.

“You could always work at a grocery store, maybe be a manager or something.” Sam offers.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be that different from managing the team! C’ mon, you’d look as cute as a button in the uniform.” Bucky adds, winking at Steve, who flips him off in return.

“Captain America, working at a McDonalds,” Steve says, his voice monotone.

“You could always say it’s a prank,” Sam suggests, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, Ross would have such a laugh at that one.” Steve grimaces. There’s a beat of silence, and then they all burst out laughing.

Later, Bucky challenges Sam to a game of MarioKart, his eyes twinkling as he holds up the Wii remote to Sam. Steve is in his room, too busy looking at jobs to play.

“C’ mon Sammy, what are you, chicken?”

“You know, I was just about to play, but you called me Sammy,” But He takes the controller anyway and takes his place on the couch on the right side of Bucky.

As it turns out, Bucky is laughably terrible at MarioKart, getting last place in every round, laughing each time he falls off the course, and mumbling under his breath in fast Russian every time Sam passes him on the course.

That is, until Rainbow Road, surprising the hell out of Sam when it’s the 2nd lap of their race and Bucky’s doing well, his Browser passing Sam and reaching 1st place. It’s when he crosses the finish line on his third lap that Sam decides to play dirty, taking one of his hands off his remote and going straight for Bucky’s armpit.

Bucky startles a gasp and starts squirming away from Sam, distracting him from a turn and falling off the course, and then leaning against the couch and using his socked feet to push Sam’s reaching arms away from him.

“No fair!” he yells when his foot presses against Sam’s head, and Sam reaches up and grabs his ankle to get his feet away from his head.

Which makes Sam’s Yoshi fall off as well.

“Get your _nasty ass fee_ t away from me!

“You’re the one who touched my armpit!”

“Yeah! To distract you!” Sam yells back, and swats his hands over at Bucky’s remote to knock it out of his hands, but misses and slaps his... _Ass?_ Sam looks over and sees Bucky on all fours with his ass perk out towards his face.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“I was going to fart on you!” You’re the--”

_“Fart!?”_ Sam yells, talking over Bucky.

“--one who slapped my ass!”

“I wouldn’t have _slapped_ it if you didn’t try to _fart_ on me!” Sam yells, and thinks to hell with it, lunging at Bucky and going for his stomach poking and tickling it. Bucky starts laughing desperately, screaming for Sam to stop but doesn’t make a move to fight him back.

Suddenly, there’s a metal hand on his wrist, and Bucky flips them, pinning him. For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of them breathing heavily, and Sam’s looking at Bucky, with him looking right back.

Then, there’s a _pppft._ And Sam feels Bucky’s fart on his crotch. Sam pushes Bucky off and lets Bucky fall off the couch right on his back, hearing him laugh, and if Sam weren’t so damn mad, he would’ve thought how pretty his laugh is, and would want to hear it more.

Right now, he’s plotting his revenge, storming off into his room.

The next few days, Sam plots. He’s silent towards Bucky, not saying a single word and glaring at him when he has the chance. It’s all to make him sweat. Steve looks between the two of them with raised eyebrows, but they both ignore him. Bucky stares back with his signature Winter Soldier eyes; it’s hard to sweat underneath the icy glare.

Then, on a quiet Tuesday night, Steve is already in bed early for his job interview the next morning at Planet Fitness, and Bucky is in the living room reading 1984. Now it’s just the waiting game, but first Sam sneaks into his room, taking one of his earbuds silicone tips and throwing it under the bed.

It’s hard to keep quiet and not laugh as he’s pranking Bucky because when it comes down to it, Sam Wilson is secretly a 14-year-old boy. He sneaks out of Bucky’s room quietly, waiting till he gets into his room to burst into laughter, slapping his knees.

He sets his phone alarm for two hundred hours, crawls into to bed, going to sleep with a smile on his face.

The loud dings irritatingly wake Sam up, and the non-morning person in him regrets ever having a damn phone when he realizes with a slight giddiness why he’s up. He tiptoes in the kitchen, filling a clear glass mixing bowl with warm water, tiptoeing across the house to Bucky’s cracked door.

He creeps in, setting the bowl on the nightstand by his right side and carefully placing Bucky’s hand in the bowl, praying to God Bucky doesn’t wake up and punch Sam with his metal hand. Bucky stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.

Even in the dark, with some moonlight peaking through the window by Bucky’s bed, Sam can see how peaceful Bucky looks in his sleep, with the lines of his face all smoothed out and his hair in a braid looking beautiful.

Sam mentally shakes himself out of the trance that a sleeping Bucky put him in and tiptoes out of the room, leaving the door as cracked as he found it.

Sam wakes up to a hard-face Bucky staring down at him.

“Oh no--” is all Sam can get out before Bucky throws his sheets in his face, and they’re… wet?

Then Sam realizes. God, Bucky threw his urine-stained sheets at him.

He throws the sheets off him sharply, running past a smug Bucky and straight into the shower and turning it on. He jumps in, not waiting for it to warm up and keeping his boxers on, grabbing the soap bar and rubbing it all over his face and body hurriedly. Sam’s gagging, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to fucking vomit.

“Fuck you Barnes!” he screams as loudly as he can, hoping Bucky can hear him from inside the shower.

“You coulda just asked,” he hears from inside the bathroom. God, is Bucky in here right now?

Before he can even respond, he hears the toilet flush. “Oops,” Bucky says, not sounding sorry at all. The water, which was just starting to warm up, goes ice cold. For the second time this week, Sam thinks to hell with it and jumps out the shower, tackling Bucky, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and wearing a smug smile. It would be hot, if Sam weren’t so damn pissed.

Okay, it’s kinda hot.

He grabs Bucky’s waist, dragging him down and flipping them. He straddles Bucky’s waist and pins him down, breathing hard. The water droplets come off his body and drip onto Bucky’s face.

Bucky doesn’t even blink.

“Asshole!” Sam screams and then crashes their lips together, kissing Bucky fiercely with all tongue and teeth. It’s bad, but he’s wanted this for so long and goddamn does Bucky have nice lips.

Bucky starts to kiss back, hands coming to cradle Sam’s face and it’s gentle, a stark contrast to their ongoing make out session. Sam’s so mad right now, and he doesn’t know if he wants to fuck or fight Bucky. It’s a bit of both, and maybe he’ll get one of them with how this kiss is going--

Then he’s on his back, and Bucky’s leaning down towards his ear, “gotcha,” and sucks the lobe agonizingly slow, making Sam shudder. Then the warmth of Bucky’s body is gone, and Sam hears the click of the door shutting all in a second, leaving Sam half naked in wet boxers.

If Sam has to hop back in the shower, that’s nobody’s business.

-

When Sam got out of his second shower of the morning, he was half expecting Bucky to be waiting outside the bathroom, leaning against the door with all the right amounts of swagger. Unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be seen. The sheets are missing from his room, and the urine stained ones are nowhere to be seen. Thank fucking God.

Out of pride, he doesn’t say anything when Steve gets back from his successful job interview. Steve gives him a look, one that even after three years of being friends with Steve, he can’t decipher.

Sam decides to cook since Bucky’s made himself scarce and Steve can’t cook to save his life. He opts to make chicken parmesan, Bucky’s favorite. He’s half hoping it will draw Bucky out of his room.

It doesn’t.

Instead, he forces Steve to make cookies after dinner, knowing that Bucky has quite the sweet tooth.

“Chocolate chip is actually Buck’s favorite,” Steve comments as he rolls the dough into a ball, ready to place on the cookie sheet.

“Huh, that’s cool,” Sam responds like he doesn’t already know.

Later, when the cookies are on a plate, Sam suggests that Steve ask Bucky if he wants any cookies.

“Bucky, I made the cookies! You’re not being pranked.” Steve’s voice travels down the hall and into the living room where Sam’s reading. Bucky mutters something that Sam can’t hear, but he assumes it’s nothing good.

Next thing he sees is Steve dragging Bucky by the ankle across the hardwood floors, Bucky sliding on his bum. He mostly looks smug, like he wanted to be pulled.

Steve grabs a cookie with a strange amount of force and bites into it with equal force and a dash of sassiness, with a hand on his hip.

“Steve, the way you bit into that cookie is why everyone in grade school called you gay,” Bucky teases from his position on the floor with his arms resting under his head. He looks quite relaxed for someone who’s on the hard, cold, floor.

“I am gay! Or Bi. It doesn’t matter. Shut up and eat the fucking cookie,” Steve commands, throwing a cookie a Bucky, who catches it with grace. He takes a bite, slowly, looking Sam in the eye, and moans.

“Wow, this is a good cookie.” And continues to moan into the cookie until it’s all gone.

Sam pretty much hates his life. Bucky wins this round. Again.

After the whole cookie fiasco, Sam goes straight to bed, where his sheets miraculously made their way back onto his bed, freshly made. So what, Bucky took his piss-stained sheets, threw them at Sam, and then washed and made his bed?

It makes Sam’s brain run wild, trying to figure out Bucky’s motive. He can’t come up with any exact answers, from explanations of Hydra control and Bucky having a big fat crush on him. Maybe it’s both, who knows anymore.

Sam dreams of a wedding. His wedding, to be exact. Steve’s by his side, on his left. And Bucky’s there, across from him, saying vows that Sam can’t hear like he’s too far away but Bucky’s crying happy tears. There’s an itch on his face, and it’s bothering him, he goes to itch it, but he feels tears, or at least what he thinks are tears, his face is wet with mushy tears. That’s never happened before.

Bucky leans in to kiss him but he wakes up and--

There’s whipped cream on his sheets. Scratch that; there’s whipped fucking cream on his hand and his head.

Then it hits him: _Bucky fucking Barnes._

“Bucky!” Sam yells, pulling his sheets away and running into the kitchen, running past a groggy Steve who’s making his way to sit down, and he. Well, he tackles Bucky and wastes no time to kiss him, whipped cream and all. He threads a whipped cream covered hand into Bucky’s long locks, and he knows he’s getting whipped cream in Bucky’s hair, take that Barnes.

He vaguely hears Steve say “Really guys? Can you not do this here?” But Sam ignores him, kissing Bucky deeper. He thinks Steve walks away. He doesn’t know, nor does he care.

“Wait,” Bucky’s puts a tentative hand on Sam’s shoulder, pushing Sam back.

“Does this mean I have to piss you off to kiss you? Because there’s a mouse trap with your name on it.”

“Wait-- is that why you’ve been pranking me?”

  
“Well, yeah. You’re hot when you get pissed off. Gives me a big boner,”

“And you just took away mine,” Sam says, totally lying and Bucky looks nervous for half a second.

“Spoilsport, but seriously. Are. Can we--” Bucky stumbles with his words and Sam kisses him hard.

“Yes, whatever it is. Yes.” And kisses him shut.

They don’t get off the kitchen floor for a long time, despite Steve’s protests.

They don’t have a name for what they are. Bucky sleeps in his bed now, and they kiss in the morning (among other things), hold hands under the dinner table at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Kind of like boyfriends. Except they haven’t said anything yet.

Sam’s making Bucky chicken parmesan in the kitchen while Bucky watches over the crook of his shoulder, hugging him from behind. They don’t say anything, and they don’t really have to.

“Gotta make sure you’re not pranking me,” Bucky says into his neck, and Sam barks a laugh, elbowing him lightly from behind.

“How do you know I haven’t already?”

“Right, our whole relationship was actually one big prank babe, look, there’s a camera.” He points with his metal arm to an imaginary camera.

“Oh really? Because I was pranking you this whole time,” Sam retorts and Bucky laughs softly, tickling Sam’s neck softly.

There’s a beat of silence, and Bucky squeezes him and kisses his neck softly.

“Liar, I know you’re in this for the cuddles,”

“You got me,” Sam says and thinks that damn, ain’t that the truth. Bucky got him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on twitter @buckorunski and on tumblr @dittywitty


End file.
